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Nov 2020
no point in thinking
about right or wrong,
in the end, is it ever up to us?

I wonder about my hopes.
I may have lost them all,
yet I fail to indulge
in the epicurean practice
of abandonment.

no glory, joy, or
goldβ€”if it matteredβ€”awaits me,
it's something its consequence
will hurl a spear
between my blades

and watch me fall to the absence of sea.

but there is hope for the child
that once held my hand
and said β€œyou're kind.”

thus with this spear,
I may take sail
into the abundance of tears.
without a purpose I remain.
Written by
verus  20/M
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